Chap 4:
Drizzt was surprised that days passed without any sign of Glorfindel or the twins. She'd hidden her trail well and told no one save Aragorn that she wished to join the fellowship, but she'd still half expected them to find her somehow. Instead it appeared that Elrond's unnatural ability to know exactly where she was didn't extend beyond the borders of Rivendell.
Overall it was an enjoyable journey thus far. Frodo continued to teach her Westron and she was beginning to understand the bawdy jokes they told when they thought she wasn't listening. Unlike in Rivendell it didn't feel like everyone was walking on eggshells around her, not all the time at least. She was certain Aragorn had forced them into the conspiracy to humor her when she said her name was Drizzt and yet call her Arwen anyways. There was also a disturbing amount of deference to her as a lady, though as a noble of House Do'Urden she wasn't entirely unfamiliar with the treatment. Oddly, in some ways it felt like Arwen and her had lived parallel lives, for all that so much was reversed.
The annoying height advantage Legolas had on her was an annoying reminder that despite switching bodies and gaining several inches in height she was still a member of the weaker sex. It was sort of ironic. As a child when being taught that males were lesser beings meant to serve and obey she'd occasionally wished she were a girl so that Vierna would be kind to her again. Now those long-forgotten wishes had come true but as a race where instead females were lesser. Admittedly the surface-dwellers didn't accompany their condescension with beatings thus far but even the hobbit commoners (all save Frodo as far as she could tell) thought her incapable of even lighting a campfire. Still, even as a drow male she'd gained some small measure of respect in Menzoberranzan thanks to her blood and skill with weapons. She might do so again here if she could ever convince them to lend her a sword.
She'd underestimated just how cold the journey would be. In the Underdark the temperature rarely changed much save when approaching water or magma. Rain and snow and weather as they called it still caught her off guard. The changes in temperature if had only increased since leaving Rivendell, leaving the nights bitterly cold. She'd taken to sleeping between Sam's pony and the campfire at night to keep from freezing. She suspected Boromir would have given her his blanket as well had she asked but she felt guilty enough already from being so unprepared. Besides, the pony wasn't so bad, though his fur didn't match the sleekness of Guenhwyvar's.
The days were better, though the chill of the air never entirely left her bones save during her morning exercise routine. She'd taken to wearing the blanket as a cape throughout the day though it made her feel like a child. She hoped the weather would change for the better soon. The slippers she'd worn during the escape were extremely well-fashioned but were made for beauty, not travel. Already she could feel them fraying and even while whole they provided little protection against sharp rocks and chill. Thus far it felt like the fellowship had exceedingly poor luck with windy, chill days meeting them continually. She could have sworn the weather was more forgiving a few months ago when she first became Arwen.